2403 — Stardate 80003.8
Ana López’s office contained a globe, a narrow couch, and a view of the stars at warp that she had not yet decided whether she found meditative or simply monotonous. Usually, she would be going over duty roster assignments or having meetings with department heads, but Captain Hopad had assigned her to take charge of the planning of the upcoming sensor sweep. It was the kind of work that required concentration.
The door to her office chimed precisely on time, which was to be expected of Siack. “Come,” she said, and the Vulcan entered, taking the chair across from her desk without being invited, which she had also expected.
He brought up a file on his PADD. “The geological sensor parameters Lieutenant Moreau submitted are thorough,” he said. “She prioritized subsurface density mapping and pressure differentials at the borehole sites. I’ve incorporated them into the long-range array configuration.” He passed her the PADD to review.
Looking at the figures, they were, as he had said, thorough. She had not known what to expect from Moreau and had been prepared to have to supplement the data herself with Siack. “Any gaps?” she asked.
“I added a passive EM sweep at her suggestion. If there is any energy signature influencing the planet from an external source, we will detect it at approximately 0.3 light-years out.” He paused. “She had anticipated the question before I raised it.”
Ana set the PADD down. “Good.” She made a note on her terminal, then leaned back. “What’s your read on the briefing?”
Siack considered this with the deliberateness that he always showed when giving an opinion. “Lieutenant Moreau’s aquifer compaction hypothesis accounts for the cessation of flow. It does not account for the tremors.” He folded his hands. “I find that gap more significant than the discussion this morning may have suggested.”
“She flagged it herself.”
“She flagged that she could not reconcile it. That is not the same thing.” He paused. “I ran a comparison against the geological database after the briefing. The tremor pattern does not match any known process, tectonic, volcanic, or otherwise. The consistency is the anomaly. Natural seismic activity does not behave this way.”
Ana looked at him. “You didn’t raise that concern in the briefing yesterday.”
“The captain had reached a sufficient operational conclusion. Besides, I do not have any better explanation for the seismic activity. We will scan the system on arrival. Raising additional uncertainty at this stage would not have been productive.”
Ana studied him for a moment. Precise and to the point, offering nothing that didn’t matter while withholding nothing that did. She had worked with Vulcans before, but Siack had a particular quality of stillness that she found useful at close range and occasionally maddening at a distance. “Put your concerns in your pre-arrival report. I want the captain to have it before we drop out of warp.”
“You will have it by 1700.”
She turned back to her terminal and pulled up the sensor array schematic. They worked through the configuration together for the better part of an hour—coverage radius, priority sequencing, contingencies if the long-range sweep returned something requiring an immediate tactical response. Siack had opinions, expressed them without decoration, and deferred when she overruled him without argument.
At some point the operational materials were exhausted and neither of them had yet found a reason to leave.
“You served in operations before your current posting,” Siack said. It was a statement, not a question.
“Starbase 38, then USS Veracruz.” She closed the schematic. “Four years combined.”
“I served in a logistics capacity on Starbase 12 for six years prior to Yreka.” He said it without inflection, though she had noticed he rarely spoke about his previous posting unprompted. “Fixed installation operations are considerably different from a vessel.”
“They are.” She adjusted in her chair and studied Siack. “You adjusted quickly.”
“The principles are consistent. The variables change more rapidly.” A pause. “Do you think your experience during the plasma storm above Tessen III prepared you for the transition to Command?”
The incident was in her service record, so Siack’s knowledge of the incident wasn’t exactly a surprise. The directness of his question was, though. “It was a very temporary command. The captain and first officer were on the surface when the storm developed. Communication went down within the first hour.”
“The record indicates it was rated class four.”
“By the end, yes. It wasn’t when it started.” She folded her hands on the desk. “It developed full magnetic interference within forty minutes. Enough time to get a partial message to the surface, but by the time we attempted a transport, the storm made it impossible.”
Siack said nothing, but the implied invitation to continue was clear.
“I had the conn for eleven hours,” she said. “When it cleared, we had structural damage on three decks and seventeen crew in sickbay.” She had told the story multiple times, to her superiors, to a review board, and once to a junior officer who had asked. It didn’t get shorter with repeated tellings. “The captain and first officer were recovered the following morning once we could get a shuttle down. They had sheltered in place and were safe.”
“The review board commended your handling of the situation, if I recall correctly.”
“They did.” She picked up the PADD. “It’s easier to be commended for something after it’s over.”
Siack sat with that for a moment before responding. “That observation applies to most things.”
“It does.” She stood, and he mirrored her immediately. “The finalized array configuration—1700.”
“Understood,” he said, then turned and left.
∗ ∗ ∗
Yreka’s Lab 2 had become a temporary home for Elena. She had not left since she arrived after the briefing had ended. The lab was smaller than the ones she’d worked with on Starbase Bravo, but efficiently configured. Two long benches, a dedicated sensor terminal along the far wall, and a secondary display showing a cross-section of Celes II with annotations layered over the subsurface strata, denser and more detailed than the version used in the conference room that morning.
She was currently seated at the terminal with her back to the door. A half-eaten ration bar sat on the bench beside her, apparently forgotten.
Ana let the door announce her arrival. Elena turned, registered who it was, and straightened her posture.
“Commander. I wasn’t expecting—”
“At ease.” Ana moved into the lab and looked at the display. The subsurface annotations were precisely placed, calculations overlaid on the rock layers at regular intervals. “How are you getting on?”
“I submitted the sensor parameters to Commander Siack about an hour ago.” Elena paused, then, seemingly deciding that was insufficient explanation, continued, “I’ve been refining the subsurface pressure model in the meantime. If the compaction theory is correct, I’d like a baseline to compare against the actual scan data when we arrive.”
“And if the compaction theory isn’t correct?”
“Then the baseline still gives us something to measure against,” she replied without hesitation.
Ana looked at her. Moreau’s answers were more confident than she had appeared when first meeting the captain, and Ana guessed that the lieutenant thrived when in her element. “The briefing this morning. How do you feel it went?”
The question landed visibly. Elena’s expression moved through something before it settled. “I think I covered the relevant material. I wasn’t sure how technical to get.”
“You read the room correctly.” Ana moved to the nearby bench. “The aquifer compaction hypothesis is the right starting point. It was where I would have started.”
Elena looked at her with the careful attention of someone trying to determine whether this was encouragement or evaluation. “Can I ask you something?” she asked after some hesitation.
“Go ahead.”
The captain . . . in the briefing, he heard the data and moved to operational conclusions quickly. Before we’d resolved the science.” Choosing her words carefully, she asked, “Is that always how he works?”
It was a perceptive question to be asking after one briefing. Ana filed that insight away. “He trusts his instincts,” she said. “Usually correctly. When he isn’t, it’s my job to tell him.” She let that settle. “Your job, when it’s your department, is the same. If you have a read on something, say it. Don’t wait until you can prove it.”
Elena nodded slowly. “Even if I’m not certain yet?”
“Especially then,” Ana chuckled. She stood and straightened her uniform. “He chose you for a reason. So did I, when I approved the posting.” She moved toward the door, then paused with her hand near the frame. “Get some sleep before we arrive. I noticed you’ve been logged in here since the briefing. The scan data will come in fast and you’ll want to be sharp when it does.”
She left Elena to her model, then proceeded to the turbolift and rode it to the bridge. The stars at warp moved past the viewscreen in long, pale streaks. Thirty-six hours to Celes II, give or take.
Hopad’s instincts had been right about the posting. She was forming her own opinion, which was a separate matter, and she wasn’t finished yet. But the foundation was there.
She settled into her seat and returned to work.
